


Woodsmoke

by cafeanna



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternative Universe - No Nen, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Camping, ChroLeoPika, ChroLeoPika Week, Early Relationship, Established Relationship, Kuroro Is Just In His Feelings, M/M, Poly Roadtrip, Roadtrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafeanna/pseuds/cafeanna
Summary: Leorio looked regretful for a moment before his nerve steeled once again.“First of all, I’m not even sure that car is yours—”“Irrelevant. I drove it here.”“—um, I drove us here. And second,” Leorio hissed, chin digging into his shoulder. “I told you I don’t like camping and you still insisted.”Kuroro pouted. “I didn’t abduct you, Leo. You could have stayed home.”OR, the chaos thrupple goes on a camping roadtrip.
Relationships: Kurapika/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8
Collections: CLK Week '21





	Woodsmoke

**Author's Note:**

> [ChroLeoPika Week: Feb 16th: Camping/Roadtrip]
> 
> *gayle waters waters music plays in the distance*

It started with the mosquitos.

Or, camping, in general, but Kuroro would be steadfast that the friction began with the mosquitos.

And, midsummer, there were many, but the worst of them were easily fought off. Kuroro laughed and explained his blood was rotten, mosquitos didn’t want him. Or, Kurapika for that matter. Leorio, however, was not so lucky.

Then, there was the firewood. Leorio had burned his hand on the char under the bark, not bad, but enough for Kurapika to make him sit out making dinner with Kuroro; an icepack from the cooler chilling on his hand. Then there was the snake that snuck up on him when he went to pee. The spider in his hair. The reveal of their sleeping arrangements—

In retrospect, Kuroro should have had more doubt when Leorio talked up his camping experience. Aside from his brief stint in Boy Scouts, of which he only remembered a little of the vow and an interesting handful of knots that Kuroro had been hoping to review this evening—but, unfortunately, plans had changed.

And now he was running through a pesticide-choked cornfield in the blue hours, trying to remember the way to the main road. The gravel curved around the cornfield, out of the woods where they set up camp and onto the highway which led back to civilization.

Luckily, he had worn boots. A foresight that Leorio had not thought about. Since Kuroro picked him up two days ago, he had been eyeing the thin trainers, fraying at the seams. Adequate enough camping shoes for normies or jogging, but Leorio was not escaping on foot.

He was—

_Bingo._

There was a break in the cornstalks and Kuroro lunged through it, over the ravine, the tall grass and poison ivy, and landing clumsily onto gravel. His body twisted, yellow headlights cutting across his vision, and his hands come down hard on the hood of his Civic.

He could hear the shriek from Leorio within and in the pull of adrenaline, dust coating the back of his teeth, Kuroro smiled.

* * *

“—all I’m saying is,” Kuroro said, winding down after another exasperated sigh. “It’s woefully bad manners to steal someone’s car.”

“I think it’s bad manners to abandon your boyfriend at a campsite, but whatever.” Kurapika sniped. Kuroro glanced over Leorio at him, sun-tanned and freckled from the day out, facedown in his pillow. More annoyed than mad, if Kuroro were to gauge it.

Leorio looked regretful for a moment before his nerve steeled once again. “First of all, I’m not even sure that car is yours—”

“Irrelevant. I drove it here.”

“—um, _I_ drove us here. And second,” Leorio hissed, chin digging into his shoulder. “I told you I don’t like camping and you still insisted.”

Kuroro pouted. “I didn’t abduct you, Leo. You could have stayed home.”

“Are you—are you kidding me? You were whining all week that I needed to come with you guys. I didn’t think I would be camping with a bunch of savages—”

“We brought a percolator.” Kurapika mumbled into his pillow.

Leorio shifted his head. “I mean a tent, Kurapika. I thought we would at least have a _tent_.” Then to Kuroro, “You always somehow have everything. I thought at least you would have brought a tent.”

Kuroro spared a glance at the deep sky above, cloudless blue night, peaked with stars. He was failing to see the problem. Leorio had a sleeping bag.

“It would be impractical.” Kurapika sighed, shifting his face on the pillow so he could be better heard. “There is not enough room in Kuroro’s car for a tent.”

“I am a bit touched that you think I can smuggle a three-person tent out of Walmart though.” Kuroro said, mind drifting. Perhaps he could put it in the bottom of a cart? He could get anything past self-checkout these days. Maybe next time he went with Machi for groceries? They always seemed to amble for hours whenever they shopped together. 

Leorio’s head shifted back to him, brow lowering. “Whatever you’re thinking—” Kuroro flashed an innocent grin. “— _no_ , you’re not allowed.”

He wiggled forward, impish, and his nose brushed against Leorio’s. Close enough to taste his breath. “You’re a thief now too. You can’t act all high and mighty.”

“Alright,” Kurapika yawned and sat up, for a moment his blond hair created a curtain across his face before he tucked it back behind his ear, looking down at them. “Let’s get some sleep. It’s a long-ass day tomorrow.” Kurapika shifted, palm sinking between their bodies. He planted a kiss on Leorio’s furrowed brow and he whined in respite.

Then he crawled over Leorio, elegant as a cat, and pressed a kiss to Kuroro’s temple. “Goodnight.”

“Night.” Kuroro intoned, the scent of woodsmoke curling from his nose as Kurapika folded himself over on the other side of Leorio, hunkering down in his sleeping bag. Leorio mumbled something, but when Kuroro glanced at him, his eyes were closed, the wrinkle between his brows smoothing.

Kuroro laid alone for a moment, staring up at the sky. He let the silence pull over him. The chirping of the crickets, the pop of the firewood, the light whistle of a snore—it all felt so far away. A distant song that pulled him under as the stars grew brighter.

* * *

Breakfast was a quick affair, Kuroro mustering up some runny eggs in a pan as Kurapika and Leorio hummed over coffee grounds. They broke camp, packed up, and were on the road before the dew dried on the grass. Back on the highway to destinations unknown.

Kuroro took the time to stretch out in the backseat alone, digging along the footroom until he pulled up an old paperback he didn’t remember snatching and started to thumb through it. Aimless with the crick in his neck and a seatbelt stretched to uselessness around his waist.

His body was still twisted up from the night before.

He had slept curled around Leorio’s side, hand against his waist, ear against his shoulder, as if worried he might try to sneak off again. Though, Kuroro had taken thieves precautions of hiding the keys before they bedded down, back when Kurapika was ranting about leaving to gather firewood only to find both of them gone.

It was—

A night, to say the least.

A con that would have impressed him, in any other circumstances. Leorio leaning into him across the fire, kisses soft and sweet, and fingers hooking in his beltloops, snatching his keys.

And even though Leorio had apologized and said he would never do it again, Kuroro felt clingy in the worst way.

Clingy in the way of reminding himself that Leorio wasn’t going to leave him for real. It was a joke. If Phinks or Feitan had done it, he would have laughed. It was a joke. If Machi and Shizuku had done it, he would have laughed. It was a joke. If Hisoka had done it—

He read the same line, over and over, until his head felt dizzy against the seat.

He hated feeling like this.

This sour taste in his mouth.

“Hey, Crow,” Leorio’s long arm reached back to tap against his knee. “There’s a truck stop up ahead. You hungry?”

Kurapika’s tawny head appeared over the passenger seat, looking at him from upside-down. “I’m starving.”

* * *

The molars in his backrow were beginning to shift.

Kuroro eyed them in the rest stop mirror, curling back his tongue to see them clearer.

He eyed the grooved ridge of teeth, not yellow, but off-white, weak enamel and without a dental plan since he aged out of the system.

He knew that would have to change soon. Leorio would be helpful for that. He knew dentists and medical plans better than anyone and, although Kuroro would rather not spend money on a broken system, he was not sure how well his boyfriends would take him doing the old tequila and pliers method for this dental issue.

He loved them. Both of them.

And even if neither of them were ready yet for words as lofty as love, Kuroro was and he knew it to be true. He loved them both, and sometimes he felt so full off that love—

But others he felt so insecure.

He finished up in the restroom, tucking away his toothbrush into his bag and exiting out through the giftshop to catch his breath. He liked giftshops—in truck stops, specifically. These little halfway places built for the in-between moments in life. Not home, not your destination, but the shudder-flicker in between. Fill up, get up, get out.

His bag bounced the keychain rack with the lope of his walk, taking survey of the coffee mugs and bottle openers, shot glasses and wood carvings. All the flimsy little novelties for everyday use pinched between a finger and thumb, eyed for a moment before moving on, noting the security camera, humming as he wound through a rack of tee shirts and glanced out the windows.

The car was still out there.

He hated that he felt the need to check, but he did.

The car was still out there. Kurapika was sunning on the hood and Leorio was walking up, arms full of food.

Kuroro had to remind himself for the first time in years to walk to the door. He knew too well to run. Peeling sticker advertisements for new tires, oil changes, and state laws obscure his view and he nearly tripped when his foot caught against the rubber mat, propelling him towards the door—

But, when Kuroro stepped out into the bright sunshine, he felt an overwhelming sink of relief that Leorio and Kurapika were still by the car.

Waiting for him.

Sweet Jesus _relief._

He made his way over slowly, pockets full of treasures and palms growing clammy in the heat, as he took in the image before him. Leorio was back in the driver’s seat, door open, and radio thrumming along to the classic rock station. He had a newspaper in hand, a Styrofoam cup of coffee tipping against his lips as he mouthed along to the stories.

Kurapika had his back to him, bent over the front of the car with a map spread out over the hood. Kuroro had been eyeing his long legs in those shorts since they packed up camp this morning, but felt too moody to comment on—or act upon—them. He enjoyed the sight as he walked up, finding his favorite freckle right below the tan line.

Kurapika glanced back at to him as he approached and he handed him a Styrofoam cup beside the one balancing against the windshield. “I already put the cream in it,” he said, loving, but unsurprised when Kuroro unearthed a handful of sugar and creamers from his pockets.

Kuroro dropped them across the map, making mountains in the far north, as he made himself comfortable on the hood of the car, folding the map stretching across the driver’s side.

Kurapika tapped a stretch of blue. “We should head east,” he said, more winsome than request. “Maybe we can see a beach?”

“I see a beach every day.” Kurapika flattened him with a glare, but didn’t bother retaliating. Yet. Kurapika had a way of waiting out his revenge, petty to a fault, but affective in a way that Kuroro could admire. He smiled, “I wouldn’t mind a swim.”

“I’ll tell Leorio.” Kurapika said, scratching a mark on the map, two fingers’ width away from their current location. “We can camp here tonight. Then, maybe we could be there by noon tomorrow? Maybe later afternoon? Depends on the roads.”

Kuroro listened, content to let Kurapika untangle their tentative plans as he emptied another sugar packet into his coffee, lid balancing on his knee. Unease buzzing like static in his mind. “Do you think that would be okay?” He asked, head tilting to the windshield.

Kurapika stared at him a moment, gaze flickering before he offered a soft smile. “He’ll be fine.” And then lower, “He feels bad.”

Kuroro chewed his lip. The coffee hit sugar sweet in his mouth and stung around his gums, a soft ache, an uncomfortable reminder.

“Hey,” Leorio leaned up from his seat to nudged him with a bag. “I got you a muffin.”

Kuroro’s brow lifted, accepting the bag. “Just a muffin?”

“It’s a truck stop muffin.” Leorio said, making some vague gesture with his hands as he leaned out against the open door. “They’re huge. I would have gotten cinnamon rolls, but I figured, hey, anyway I can get you two to eat a fruit.” He flashed a grin that Kuroro combated with a frown. He liked cinnamon rolls.

“Angel, Leo’s is being mean.”

Kurapika hummed, pen twisting in his hands. His attention never moved from the map. “Mm, I’m planning on making a break for it as soon as his back is turned.” Kuroro filed that information away and opened the bag. Cranberry orange.

“I don’t think this counts as fruit.”

“I’m doing my best with what I got.” Leorio yawned, stretching long and languid, muscles munching in his arms as his finger hooked onto Kuroro’s beltloop to hang off him. “I’ve got to make sure my boys are well taken care of.” Kuroro softened at the gesture. The nervous little hole in his chest pulling together with the thread of Leo’s smile.

Just as he loved Kurapika with his barbed tongue and long legs; he loved Leorio with his gregarious nature and large hands. He loved them both, as they loved each other, as they loved him. Admissions through shifting eyes and flushing cheeks, in the banality of everyday and even when they argued; Kuroro’s little heart filling with the brush of affection.

He leaned down on his side of the car, warm metal brushing bare skin, and Leorio leaned up to meet him, mouth against his. He tasted like blueberries and coffee. Woodsmoke in his hair. Like Kurapika’s. Like his.

“Hey Leorio,” Kurapika called, and Kuroro was suddenly very interested in the deliberate scratching of Kurapika’s pen, capped, circling an empty webbing of backroads west of them. Leorio hummed under his hand, chin stubble against his palm. “Could you turn the music down? I’m still waking up.” 

“Oh, sure babe.” Leorio pressed his mouth against the inside of Kuroro’s hand before ducking back in the car—

And, once he was in, Kurapika spun on his heel and took off back towards the truck stop, Kuroro hot on his heels. Leorio, immediately noticing his mistake, turned back to them spewing venom. “You, you two— _ugh_ , at least get me another coffee! Alright!?”

“Fat chance!” Kurapika shouted, spinning with all the grace of a dancer as he threw up a twin bird salute. Kuroro cackled beside him, hot coffee running over the back of his hand as he stumbled with the force of his laughter.

Kurapika grabbed at his free hand, laughing. “C’mon, let’s get Mr. Grand Theft Auto his latte.”

He had a breathless grin, so bright in the midmorning light, it mirrored back on Kuroro’s own face as he stumbled along after Kurapika’s long strides. When he looked back, Leorio was settled on the hood of the car, music cranked loud, contented to pout and Kuroro lifted his cup to him. Leorio made a show of looking away, but the tilt of his head and ease of his shoulders were more put-on than anything else.

Kuroro felt at ease, for the first time in so long. He felt happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, ofc, to fuck_you_kylo for the idea of Leorio being a former Boy Scout and knowing knots. I loved the detail when you mention it, and I simply had to wedge it in. 
> 
> Kuroro always feels like the more possessive one, but this time I get to play a bit with that as an insecurity. In my last fic (Shiver, CLK, a perfect 1.4k) was very different, but I like writing sweet things every once and awhile. With angst. I’m still getting the handle of writing a CLK as a fleshed out, so bear with me.
> 
> Also, this was based off of the time I convinced my friends to go camping with me and my best friend attempted to steal my car to make it to civilization, but she should have remembered that I’m crazy and I ran track (for two weeks) so I ran through a cornfield to cut her off on the main road and jump onto my own car. Did I fall into gravel? Yes. Is it a fun story? Also yes. 
> 
> -cafeanna


End file.
